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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23945569">A Demon's Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathbyWritingTooManyFanfictions/pseuds/DeathbyWritingTooManyFanfictions'>DeathbyWritingTooManyFanfictions</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Canon-Typical Violence, Hunter Keith (Voltron), Hunter Lance (Voltron), Hunter Shiro (Voltron), Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Keith (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:54:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,268</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23945569</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathbyWritingTooManyFanfictions/pseuds/DeathbyWritingTooManyFanfictions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a demon hunter is not for everyone. For one the pay is absolutely shocking, second you’re risking your life everyday without credit and third it doesn’t make for great small talk. So, most hunters can be defined as the “mysterious, silent type”, attractive until they start complaining about how ‘a little ghostie tried killing them today at work’, some would call that a red flag.</p><p>Keith could see demon's for as long as he can remember, which is why he's where he is now. A hunter. Shiro was with him through all of his training, acting as his back bone and constantly pushing him on a better path. Now he's one of the best Hunter's in the business, with his new partner (who prefers to be known as Keith's newest BFF and rival) right next to him in the ranks. </p><p>Friends... was never something he was good at.</p><p>[Updates on Fridays]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hunk &amp; Lance (Voltron), Keith &amp; Lance (Voltron), Keith &amp; Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron), Lance &amp; Pidge | Katie Holt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Throughout I'll add any TWs at the beginning of chapters. If I ever miss a trigger warning, please let me know in the comments so I can quickly add it.</p><p>I hope you enjoy :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Being a demon hunter is not for everyone. For one the pay is absolutely shocking, second you’re risking your life everyday without credit and third it doesn’t make for great small talk. So, most hunters can be defined as the “mysterious, silent type”, attractive until they start complaining about how ‘a little ghostie tried killing them today at work’, some would call that a red flag.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Demons themselves can be separated into three categories; Lower, Middle, Upper class and lastly, emperor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Lower Class</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Smallest and weakest of all demons, some would argue they’re somewhat cute. The most they can do is knock over a few cups and unscrew your table so all your paper work and laptop go flying onto the floor. They are often mistaken as ghosts, but ghosts are merely shadows, they don’t even know what they’re doing - they just kind of… wonder and phase through everything. Neither of them are dangerous and disposing of lower class demons is basically pest control.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Middle Class</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Remember that one movie with pea soup? Middle Class demons are strong enough to possess inanimate objects and any living creature - including humans if they are able to attain enough power and the person is mentally weak enough. They’ll give you a bad time and make you question your paycheck, but well trained hunters can deal with these kinds of demons with little hassle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Upper Class</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s against an unspoken hunter’s code to go after Upper Class demons alone. They don’t need to possess to have a physical form, unlike Middle class demons. They feed off of the smallest bit of negative emotion and have the ability to control demon classes lower than them, in some cases even cannibalising them if they’re desperate for energy. The only positive about Upper class demons is that they’re rare and only show their face to cause a little chaos before disappearing again unless a hunter finds them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Emperor  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Run.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>*-*-*-*-*</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Raise a little hell, raise a little hell, rais-’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shiro, I’m going to fucking kill you.” Early mornings were never Keith’s forte, evident by his sprawled body across his bed and the ratty blankets that only just covered his legs. The position was undeniably comfy, but didn’t exactly lock warmth in, especially with the drafty apartment Keith lived in. The heating hadn’t worked for three years now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I take it you don’t like your new ringtone and good morning to you too Keith.” He could practically hear the smug grin Shiro was wearing. “If sleeping beauty is ready to show his face, Allura has a new job for you. She’ll be waiting to debrief you at HQ, so hurry up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, I’ll be there in less than thirty minutes. Bye.” Keith clicked the phone off before Shiro could say anything else. Manners, also not his forte. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a morning routine that would make any well put together adult cringe, Keith downed a coffee and choked on a cereal bar before making it out the door. This time it took three attempts to lock the door to his apartment, better than last night's five. Asking the landlord to fix the front door would be a waste of effort unless you had the money to pay for three times what it's worth, which Keith didn’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was nearly seven and none of his neighbours would be awake, most had come from night shifts or cared about work as much as where they live and considering the amount of mold this building had gathered over the years, they didn’t give a shit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The place was crawling with lower class demons - little, floating, black blops - they carried no threat. They just quietly fed on the depression and self hatred that made the building reek. Keith could smell it, complimented the stench of damp rather nicely… which honestly, wasn’t nice at all. It took everything in him not to cover his nose every time he walked down the hall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was only a small jog to his rusted truck, more of the little black blops were outside. They acted like big flies, swarming where it was dark and wet or where something was rotting. Only few could see them, those were usually found and turned into hunters, others could live in the fantasy of everything was (more or less) okay and there was no creature under the bed. Keith was part of the very few with this ability that could sense demons, not just see them. He had often thought of it like a magnet, the pull to other demons growing stronger as he grew older. It was gradual, but still worried the shit out of Shiro. Although the man was a professional worrier, his concern was often brushed off as “overreacting”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*-*-*-*-*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah Keith, We were just talking about you.” Allura was the first to greet Keith when he walked through the door. Her politeness was annoying, but Allura was too kind to dislike. She was the kind of person everyone would die for, but secretly envied - especially with her ability to look like a goddess at half seven on a tuesday morning. “I’ve just been discussing with Shiro about the recent demon attacks, all the information you need can be found in this folder. However, there's one little catch with this one…” She seemed to hesitate, never a good sign.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shifted from resting on one leg to the other, folding his arms over his chest as he waited for her to continue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“However, Boss wants you to have a partner, someone to keep an eye on you since you do so many solo missions.” Shiro stepped out from behind Allura, matching Keith’s crossed arms. “It might not be for very long or it could be looking to be something more permanent. Either way, no arguments I’m afraid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I don’t-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-No arguments.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Allura stepped in front of Shiro, holding out a brown folder in one hand. “Yes, well. You’ll be meeting your partner shortly. He’ll be arriving in the main conference room soon, so you better make your way there now.” It wasn’t hard to tell Allura’s smile was slightly forced, the atmosphere within the room slightly awkward and tense.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith took the file, quickly glancing through the pages. A few photos stood out from the blocks of black text, usually of bloody murder scenes or previous sightings of the demon on security feeds. “Fine… I’ll read through the file on my way there.” He nodded at the two of them as a way to say ‘goodbye’ before turning on his heel and leaving. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To say Keith was frustrated would be an understatement. He didn’t want a partner, he never has. He doesn’t want to be responsible for another person, especially if said person would no doubt just end up getting in his way. It was easier to work alone, no distractions and no guilt if something went wrong. The best he could hope for now was that this isn't permanent, that in a few weeks - at most - he’d be back to his lonesome hunting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The conference room was empty when he walked in, the sound of the door closing echoing upto the high, glass ceiling.  It was a typical, business room; it was practically blinding white, with black chairs and potted plants in each corner. Truly the peak of original design.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The chair scraped across the floor as Keith pulled it from beneath the table, the sounds making him cringe slightly as he threw the folder onto the table in front of him. The folder always made him inwardly smile, there was something classic and ironic about a brown folder, stamped with the bold red words “TOP SECRET”. How printing “TOP SECRET” on the front would stop prying eyes, he would never understand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laid out the pictures in the space in front of him, comparing each image of the demon and its slightly gross crime scenes that it’d left behind. Demon’s couldn’t be picked up on cameras, just the energy they produce. Lower class demons would only be caught on camera in large swarms, middle class would look like black smoke if it was possessing a person or an object. Upper class demons were harder to identify, alone they looked like shadows, but can easily be mistaken for a middle class if they are possessing a person, as they gave off the same black smoke. This was the dilemma Keith was in, deciding its class was currently like flipping a coin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully there was more information within the folder, however it was simply a few highlighted details and habits of the demon, along with potential weaknesses that were common of all middle and upper class demons. Not much Keith didn’t already know. Crosses and other religious imagery wouldn't affect it, however holy water repelled it and a demon blade or bullets to the heart would kill it, well… “kill”, technically a demon isn’t a living thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The demon is suspected to be bonded to the man's soul, scraping the possibility of an exorcism. In some cases demons and humans form a perfect, almost symbiotic bond. In most cases of possession a demon will gradually drain a body until a person practically shrivels up and dies, however in this case, the demon is able to make the human body last much longer. Of course the person will eventul-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Knock, Knock.”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sudden voice broke Keith from his train of thought and his reflexes kicked in. In mere seconds Keith was brandishing the knife he kept strapped to his belt, holding it out in front of him with his body already fixed in a fighting position. But the man who had walked in wasn’t a threat, didn’t look very much like one at least. He was lanky and just a few inches taller than Keith, with a small amount of visible muscle. The man was chuckling, his shoulders bouncing with his hands up in mock surrender.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Easy kitty, I didn’t mean to scare you. The name is Lance McClain, I’ll be your new partner and I’d prefer it if you didn't gutt me.” Lance held some amount of arrogance but in a way it came across as charming. His skin was flawless, his hair well kept and his clothing looked brand new - Keith was jealous of how well put together Lance’s life looked, he was still trying to determine whether the brown smudge on the calf of his black jeans was dirt or rust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance held out his hand to shake Keith’s, but was easily ignored. “It's Keith, don’t call me kitty.” Slowly he relaxed, keeping his eyes on Lance as he put his knife back in its sheath. “Have you read the case files yet?” He asked as he gathered the paper from the desk and back into the case file.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, not yet. I've only just got here,” As he walked past him he pushed the folder into the other’s chest, forcing him to grab it before it would fall onto the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then catch up, we’re leaving now.” Even though his concept of socialising was a bit skewed, even Keith could recognise how harsh he was to him, but if he was lucky Lance would quickly complain to Allura about his behaviour and Keith would be promptly back to his ‘lone wolf’ status, as Shiro liked to call it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you too,” Lance muttered under his breath, flicking the folder open as he followed Keith through the hallways.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>*-*-*-*-*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“... So then I asked her out and she was like ‘Oh my God, Lance! That was so romantic!’ and I was like…” It had come to Keith’s attention that Lance must have lost the ability to keep his mouth shut a long time ago, “... but I’m pretty sure her friend, Nicky, had a crush on me as well…” If he was lucky, maybe Lance came with an off switch, “But anyways, story of my first kiss…” He hadn’t stopped talking since they got in the truck, it had just been constant chatter. No matter how many times he would turn up the radio, Lance would just end up turning it back down again and start another story relating to his romantic conquests. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you please shut the fuck up?” Keith almost growled, his hands gripping the steering wheel and his knuckles turning white under his gloves. “Can’t you take this a little more seriously?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance’s smile didn’t falter, if anything it grew into more of a smirk. “Calm down mullet, just trying to fill up the blank space. Silence is boring and, since we’re going to be in each other's company for a while, might as well get to know each other a little bit.” He gave a careless shrug before throwing his hands behind his head and relaxing in his seat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t really do company, I like doing this alone.” Keith looked over at Lance for a second before focusing back on the road again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You see, already getting to know each other. So… are you a lone wolf? Do you hunt demons down and show them no mercy,” Lance’s voice started to turn more dramatic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what Shiro calls me and to show a demon mercy would be stupid.” Keith stopped the truck, the handbrake croaking as he pulled it. “Grab your shit and let's go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The worst part about cases wasn’t the innocent people that were hurt in the process, or risking their lives for the great or good like some comic super hero, it was the motels they stayed in. This one in particular looked practically derelict, not even cheap hookers or drug dealers dared to use this place. As nice as a four star hotel, with chocolate on the pillows and maybe ten minutes of hot water sounds, Keith couldn’t afford to lose any more of his paycheck, this motel was already taking off a small sliver he could have used to buy more coffee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This… is where we’re staying?” The horrified look on Lance’s face was priceless, Keith regrets not taking a picture so he can put it on his fridge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unless you can afford any better, be glad you aren’t sleeping in a car at the side of a road,” The front office was a smaller, surprisingly more well kept building adjacent to the main one. In it sat a woman most likely in her mid sixties, smoking a cigarette tinted pink from her over lined red lipstick. It stank of nicotine and the smoke made Keith’s eyes sting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A room for two please, separate beds,” The woman looked between Keith and Lance before giving a small huff, tapping the cigarette to let the built up ash fall on the floor. He was sure that if he leaned over the counter there’d be a small pile of used up cigarettes by her feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Room twelve. Pay for one night now, come back in the morning if you want a second night or get your stuff and leave. Anything we do find left behind will either be sold to a pawn shop or burnt.” Her voice was rougher than Keith had imagined, if he had to place a bet he’d say she smoked three packs a day at least. Like he had the place to say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a few tens and dollar notes were exchanged Keith was given a key, the room labelled with a tatty piece of paper and the number written in water damaged biro. Lance was the one to say ‘thank you’ when they both left, who immediately started choking after getting out the front office.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She looked scary,” Lance commented on the way to their room, giving a fake shudder. “So… you don’t want to share a bed with little ol’ me?” He gently elbowed Keith, a smile playing on his lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I said separate beds for a reason.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aw, but you look so cuddly and warm.” Keith rolled his eyes, ignoring the pink tint on his cheeks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you’re going to be that lonely at night just cuddle your pillow, I’m sure the cum stains will keep you company.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oooo, Keithy boy has jokes. But genuinely, that is absolutely disgusting.” The same could be said about the whole of the room, magenta and lime green do not work together at all. It was hard to imagine who could be dumb enough to even consider a room like this. The curtains were a dark blue, which made it even worse and everything had its own little collection of stains with mysterious origin. “Next time I’m finding us a place to sleep.”</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, you can pay for it.” Keith threw his bag on the single bed before falling back on it himself, resting his eyes for just a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s that smell? It's making my skin feel all slimy and gross.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Probably the drains, it’ll be worse in the bathroom.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Charming,” He heard Lance say, followed by the sound of a deodorant can. The mix of stagnant water and lynx was not a great pairing, it made the smell worse and both of them cough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the hell are you doing?” Keith said as best he could as he was hacking up his lungs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Getting rid of the smell.” Lance continued spraying, not taking the hint to stop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Open a fucking window before you gas us.” He got up when his eyes started to sting, moving to the front door. “I'm going to the vending machine, don’t break anything while I’m gone and stop fucking spraying deodrant.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please let me know your thoughts so far in the comments, enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was starting to rain when Keith made it back to the room, a handful of snacks and a takeaway menu were all tucked beneath his arm as he hurried to open the door, wanting to avoid getting soaked by the rain. Now he regrets not taking the opportunity to smoke when he first left, Lance would complain but he doubts the chain smoker of a receptionist would even notice if he smoked in their room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sat in the chair next to the window. The lock had rotted away long ago, it only stayed shut because the wood had expanded so much from damp and it took a few pushes to finally get it open. Keith tapped the bottom of his pack, forcing a few of the cigarettes to lift from the packet. He placed one of them between his lips before using his lighter, it took a few clicks before it finally lit, it wasn’t long now before it was out of fluid. He’d have to miss a meal to afford some more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just got rid of the damp smell, now I have to get rid of your stinky smoke as well.” Lance startled Keith, almost making him choke. He blew out what was left in his lungs before replying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The windows open,” He took another drag, “and you didn’t get rid of the damp smell, it's still there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” Lance discarded the towel from his waist, not even giving Keith the opportunity to turn away - admittedly he would have taken a small glance anyway, the man was only human. “If demons don’t kill you young, those things will.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith gave off a small chuckle, letting the nicotine run through his body and relax him. He’d had stronger, but something was better than nothing. “You sound like Shiro and its stress relief, give me a break.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really going for the 90s, bad boy aesthetic. Leather gloves, skinny jeans, shit hairstyle-” Lance sat in the chair opposite, eyeing the packet of cigarettes with a small frown. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you going on about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Attitude matches perfectly as well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, I’m going for a shower.” Keith smothered the cigarette in the ashtray, hiding the pack back in his bag, something told him if he didn’t Lance would hide them for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I used up all of the hot water by the way… well… not as cold water.” Keith was going to strangle him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bathroom was covered in beauty products that Keith had no doubt were all Lance’s, no way in hell would a motel like this provide an entire family’s skin care routine. Moisturiser, wrinkle cream, hydrating oils, clear skin masks? Half of these products he’d never even heard of, let alone know how to use them. Why Lance had brought all these to a mission that would take no more than a few days baffled Keith further.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stepped in the shower, giving himself a moment to prepare before turning on the shower and letting the cold water hit him. It didn’t matter how many cold showers he’d had in his life, everytime he would gasp at the sensation of cold water hitting his back. Anything the cigarette had done to calm his body was immediately flushed out of his system.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As a sort of revenge for using up all the warm water, Keith saw it as only fair game to use Lance’s vanilla shower gel that he had thoughtfully left behind for him to use. With a smug grin he took enough from the bottle to fill the whole of his hand. A small victory.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smile dropped from his face when he reached to wash his back, his hand immediately hesitating as his fingers felt the start of a scar, the skin lifted and weirdly smooth. Slowly he traced it as far as he could up to his shoulder and to his lower back, reaching around onto his left hip. With his other hand he began to trace the other side, where it jutted out more onto his ribs, and ended slightly higher.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyday Shiro would remind him to stretch his back, knowing that if he left it a day the burn would start to get tight again and would hurt even from small tasks, let alone any fighting techniques he used. But stretching wouldn’t stop the phantom pain from creeping on his skin again and forced the memories to replay in Keith’s head, over and over until he found some way to forget, usually with a coping method Shiro disapproved of.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His lips had turned blue by the time he got out the shower, drying himself with a towel from his bag - he knew better than to trust that motel towels were clean - Keith cursed to himself for forgetting his clothes. After letting his head fall against the door with a small ‘thud’, he left the bathroom, dirty clothes in one hand and a towel wrapped around his waist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn, who would have suspected a body like that under those clothes,” There it was. Keith rolled his eyes and did his best to ignore Lance. “Well, we’ve both seen each other naked now, so I can safely say we’re friends.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t do friends and I didn’t see you naked, I turned away before you dropped the towel.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay one, that is a big lie, I saw you looking and two, even edgy emos need friends. Who’s going to paint your nails black for you?” Lance crossed his arms, giving a look that made it look like he was giving off some valid points.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand what you’re saying half the time.” After Keith was fully dressed again he sat across from Lance, bringing up one of his legs to sit more comfortably.”So, why did Boss partner you with me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Demon attacks are getting more gruesome, they don’t want to risk too much paperwork so they've started pairing a lot of us together. Like you, not many people are happy. But hey, I’ll be out of your tangled hair in no time.” Lance lightly kicked my shin with his foot, an unreadable smile on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>*-*-*-*-*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two sat in the truck together, waiting as the silence between them grew thicker. It seemed Lance did in fact have the ability to keep his mouth shut, but the serious look on his face was almost unnerving and looked foreign on his features. Keith would turn to Lance, subconsciously hoping that look would be gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith repeatedly turned his knife around in his hand, taking in the sensation of the cool metal against his skin and would gently press down on the knife’s sharp edge. Not hard enough to cut the skin, just enough to feel the skin threaten to split. It was a weird habit that Shiro had called him out for, but it was something that had always soothed him, a small, meaningless task that kept his anxiety riddled mind focused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His knife was given to him when he first “graduated” training, depending on your skill set you were given a weapon to match. Keith had always excelled in close range, one on one combat and so he was given a demon blade. Normal weapons had no effect against demons, the most damage they did was the equivalent to a mosquito bite or a bee sting. The only thing that seemed to work was the weapon’s demons brought from hell. The metal was a matt black, with a purple sheen to it and had never been identified. It was still an unknown substance, however in the grand schemes of things, that didn't matter. On cut from the blade and it was like the metal was coated in poison; the skin around the demon’s wound would start to burn and disintegrate, a large enough cut would cause them to burn into purple flames. A horrifying, yet satisfying sight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance's weapon was the opposite to Keith’s, he carried two silver pistols. The guns themselves weren’t brought up by demons, instead it was the bullets which were coated with the same metal as Keith’s knife. Unused or broken weapons were melted down and used either for testing or made into bullets. For now they weren’t in short supply of the material, which Keith found oddly surprising, yet demon weapons weren’t something you came across everyday. Those who were allowed to use demon bullets were highly skilled, those who would only miss one in a hundred shots. He would never admit it out loud, but Keith was impressed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was still a lot they didn’t know about demon weapons, one characteristic being the attachment the weapons held to their owner, or their demon owner at least. So far, no human has been able to manipulate a demon blade like the demon itself, during battle a demon’s weapon can change shape to better appease its owner’s needs. The weapon would glow and its form would change, sometimes more of the material forming in thin air and others the metal just disappears.Its hard to identify something that shows no common features or characteristics with any known material.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why were you given an elite weapon?” The words just seemed to slip out, breaking the silence Keith had been praying for ever since he met Lance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance gave a small laugh, a smile breaking the serious expression he had been giving for the past hour. “Impressed, mullet?” He asked and held one of the hand guns up, letting the moonlight shine against the polished metal. “I was the best in the class and I excelled in both close and long distance combat, but not one on one combat, so I was given these bad boys. They call me sharpshooter for a reason.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do I have the feeling you’re the only one who calls you ‘sharpshooter’?” Keith deadpanned, but Lance’s smile grew wider. “There, Isaac Jones.” Like it had never left, the focused expression on Lance’s face returned. He reached for the handle, but Keith grabbed his arm. “Act as back up and stay out of my way.” He saw Lance roll his eyes before the two of them jumped out of the truck, the faint sound of trashy techno music pulsing through the air. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Isaac, well… better put, the demon possessing Isaac was already in the warehouse. It would be hard to spot him amongst the crowd of most likely high and fucked up ravers. The music made it hard to think and the bright lights that were constantly moving and rotating across the warehouse would make Keith see stars every time it hit him directly in the eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Keith wait,” Lance tried to reach out and grab him, but Keith was already pushing his way through the crowd, using his shoulders to shove anyone out of the way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith could feel him, he could practically taste the demon’s energy. It was like ash, but not unpleasant, it tasted more like the cigarettes he smoked every opportunity he had without Shiro butting in with his comments about ‘maintaining good health’. It wasn’t unpleasant, if anything it was familiar. The deeper he moved through the crowd, with his knife held closely at his waist, the stronger that taste grew. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Keith.” That wasn’t Lance’s voice, but it wasn’t calling out to him. “Keith.” So he followed and as he did the taste grew. Ashy and strong, but familiar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The voice led him to the other end of the crowd, taking him down a set of stairs and beneath the rave. He could hear the banging against the ceiling from people jumping, the music was almost completely drowned out by it, all that was left was the beat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beneath was dark. Keith could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up and a tingle wash over his skin. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out any shapes within the room. The adrenaline was already pumping through his system, every muscle in his body telling him to run, but fear would only make the demon stronger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he felt it, a presence right behind him. On instinct he turned and tried to make a hit with his knife, but instead he only cut through air. Keith’s heartbeat was in his ears, body on complete red alert.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Keith.” The ice in the voice made Keith's body freeze up for a second, locking his feet in place with his arms dead at his side. “Not here to fight.” He could feel its presence grow closer in the dark and Keith only broke out of his state of shock to turn to see Isaac’s face centimetres from his. He could only just make out the other’s features, the shadows harsh on his face and blurring a lot of features together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith made another swing with his knife, the demon blocking it this time, grabbing his wrist. “Listen,” It hissed, voice croaky and unused. He ignored it, dropping his knife to the other hand to make another attack. The demon would block each one of Keith’s attempts, before jumping back out of Keith range completely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t drop his stance, waiting for the demon to make its first attack. “Don’t want to fight, must talk,” It spoke almost hushed, its eyes repeatedly darting to the stairs that lead back upstairs. “Needed your attention.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s a lot of ways to get someone's attention, killing innocent’s isn’t exactly a good one.” Keith didn’t match the demon’s quiet voice, instead he made sure to be loud, letting his voice echo. The demon looked alarmed for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quiet, can’t let the other one hear.” The demon held up his hands for a moment, attempting to move closer to Keith as if he was an aggressive animal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You mean Lance? Why can’t he hear?” Keith's grip on his knife tightened and his knuckles went white. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t trust, not on your side.” Keith eyebrows furrowed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the hell does that mean?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“KEITH!” It was Lance’s voice calling out to him and Keith lost focused for a second. In that second the demon moved towards him in a blur, but instead of attacking Keith he threw itself onto his knife instead, the metal embedding itself into its heart. Its skin immediately turned grey, with black lines cracking his skin like shattered pottery. Just before it’s body fell into a pile of thick ash, it whispered something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t in a language he knew, yet the words were familiar to him. It was going to eat at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Keith, you got him.” Lance jogged over to Keith, who was still fixed in place, his brain trying to process what just happened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” He snapped out of it in a second, barely acknowledging Lance. “Yeah… lets go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance looked at him slightly confused. “Hey, you okay?” He stopped Keith by grabbing his shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine… it's just weird… well it said something weird. Doesn’t matter, it's dead now.” Keith brushed off his hand gently, both of them moving back towards the stairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did it say?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing important, just gibberish.” Keith lied. Keith lied and it felt weird, he didn’t even realise he had the ability to lie. But until he understood himself what that demon gave its life to tell him, he wouldn’t be able to make anyone else understand. It wouldn’t be the first thing he’s ever hidden, especially to Shiro, but now he knew him too well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not going to lie, I feel pretty useless.” Lance broke Keith from his thoughts, looking over at him with a smile. The air outside was fresh and crisp, nothing like the humid air inside the warehouse. The music inside was still blasting just as loud as it was when they got here, making one good thing to add to the report - no civilians hurt during elimination. Boss will like that one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Keith muttered quietly to himself, Lance looking over at him curiously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, wanna get a few pizzas on the way back. I know we didn’t exactly do much, but I still feel like a victory meal is in order.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good. I want Hawaiian.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You pineapple on pizza eating monster,” Lance held up one of his pistols, pointing it to Keith’s chest. “I must kill you where you stand.”</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your safety is off, dumbass,” Keith gave a smile, a small bit of tension lifting off of his shoulders. “Besides, it's delicious.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Er no, pepperoni with black olives. The perfect combination and just above Sal’s Pizzeria meat feast deluxe on the list of best pizzas. Hawaiian is on the very bottom by the way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? No, black olives on pizza is cursed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, mullet. That hair is messing with your brain cells.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>!!TRIGGER WARNINGS!!</p><p>TW: Description of panic attacks and slight self harm - I’ll be using a description of how panic attacks feel to me personally and I understand that not all panic are the same. I wanted to add a warning just in case it would cause anyone discomfort.</p><p>TW: Mentions of past drug use</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“Listen… Needed your attention… Can’t let the other hear… Not on your side....”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith’s brain was stuck. It had been little over an hour and his back had become sore from the awkward way he sat, hunched over sideways in his chair, his legs hanging off of the armrest. His left cheek pressed into the backrest of the chair, occasionally lifting a cigarette to his lips. His pizza that he had brought back to the hotel room had been mostly left uneaten and now cold, he didn’t have much of an appetite for it anyway. The cheese was too thick and the pineapple was burnt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-eith… Keith!” He snapped out of his little daydream when Lance punched him in the arm, an obvious worried look on his face. “Earth to Keith, you’ve been sitting here smoking and staring out the window for God knows how long. Dios moí, look how many you’ve gone through.” Lance picked up the ashtray, immediately regretting it when he was hit with the smell of burnt out cigarettes. “What's gotten up your ass?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Keith said, in the most unbelievable tone, like a toddler caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Just a little tired.” Lance’s expression told him that he had failed in trying to convince him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm, it must be incredibly tiring slowly destroying your lungs.” Lance snatched the half used cigarette that was between Keith’s fingers and put it out in the ashtray with the others, before sitting down across him in one of the motel seats, looking at him almost expectantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m just tired.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi ‘just tired’, I’m Lance and I’ll be your therapist for the evening.” Keith rolled his eyes, pushing himself from the chair, but was quickly stopped when a strong hand grabbed him by the wrist. He half expected Lance to question him further, it was what he was used to after years of Shiro trying to connect with him and break down his walls, but instead Lance just gave him a goofy smile. “Wanna share beds?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once more Keith rolled his eyes, ignoring Lance’s suggestive eyebrow wiggling that had been going on for far too long. “Separate beds, but if the boogeyman really scares you that much you can sleep on the floor next to me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aw, you're too sweet.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” Keith threw his face into the pillow, his stomach immediately churning at the thought of how many other greasy faces had done the same since the pillow’s last wash. Probably last year by how much it smelled like bacon grease. “I wanna leave early tomorrow morning so we can be back before lunch. Allura will no doubt want a report on her desk before dinner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As you wish, mullet.” He could hear Lance shuffle about and clothes dropping to the floor before the lights were switched off and the other was in bed. It wasn’t long until he heard Lance’s light snoring that told Keith that he was asleep and he soon joined him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*-*-*-*-*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was in the early hours of the morning when he shot up in bed, covered in cold sweat and a heavy weight on his chest. The only light in the room was coming from the street lights just outside the window, warping the shadows in the room to look like creatures. Without looking away Keith scrambled with one hand to turn on the bedside lamp, knocking over the digital clock in the process, the heavy device giving out a dull ‘thunk’ when it hit the floor and made Keith jump.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could feel static spreading through his arms and legs, making him feel almost weightless, but his nerves were too sensitive from adrenaline for it to feel good. Every part of him was on high alert, he could hear his heart beat ten times faster than it should, the sound completely filling his ears until he could hear nothing else. Without much thought he ran from the bed, too afraid to stare into the empty room any longer, his eyes tricking him into believing the shadows were moving closer to him. That they were slowly reaching towards him, creeping under the blankets ready to grab him by the ankles and pull him away before anyone could reach out and help him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The brightness of the bathroom light was too much, but it was something to focus on even for only a moment. He could barely stand with how weak his legs had become, his head was too clouded with how heavily he was breathing and his stomach was twisting and churning. It was all too much, like everything was moving past him too quickly for him to see. Keith couldn’t hold himself up much longer; his knees buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor before he could reach onto something. He saw the bottles of Lance’s beauty products hit the floor around him, but his ears were too numb to process the sound they made.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith thrashed his head against the wall as he dug his nails into the muscle of his arms, repeatedly scratching at the skin in order to bring feeling back into them. The faint, red lines slowly built up until the skin was sore, little red dots slowly forming. He hadn’t scratched deep enough to make himself bleed, but it was enough to leave a mark. The more he scratched the more the fear and desperation built inside of him, until his limbs would lock and his nails dug into his scalp. Everything was static, he could hear nothing but a loud humming and the more he tried to see the blurrier it all got.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt hands grab onto his forearms and he immediately thrashed, trying to pull away from whoever - or whatever - had caught him. But it held on and Keith's panic grew and he did more to try and force the hands to let go. He heard a voice break through the humming that had consumed his ears, a voice he had recognised, but in a way he had never heard it before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Hey, breath for me.” It was Lance. He was here and holding onto Keith. Lance was here and he was trying to bring Keith back. He could see him through his messed up hair and teary eyes, the look in his eyes was laced with worry and dread, it made Keith’s stomach drop. “Keith, hey buddy.” Lance gave a gentle smile when Keith’s breathing was starting to slow and his eyes were becoming more focused; it would take longer for the feeling in his arms and legs to come back, even longer for the scratches on his arms to settle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lance,” He hated how timid and weak his voice sounded. He hated how his body was shaking, trying to get rid of the adrenaline still coursing through him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lance just gave another smile, placing gentle hands on Keith’s cheeks, wiping away his tears with his thumbs. “There you are mullet. Come on, splash your face with some cold water.” Keith didn’t get a chance to protest as Lance was already lifting him up by his arms and moving him to stand in front of the sink. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith turned on the tap, his hands still shaking as he ran them under the cold water. He felt a warm hand press against his back through his shirt, slowly rubbing circles. It gave him a chance to focus as he cupped hands, slowly collecting water in his palms before bringing it up to his face. The cold water gave him a small moment of relief before it quickly turned hot and Keith’s eyebrows furrowed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took a few moments for Keith to lift his head, his eyes meeting the mirror in front of the sink. He jumped back when he saw red, his face and hands covered in it and Lance just looking at him with a smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Woah, it's alright,” Lance was patient, moving slowly to hold Keith’s arms and keep him steady. Keith looked back down at his hands, the red gone and its place was just water. His head was still too fuzzy to make any sense of anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell Shiro,” Keith hadn’t had an attack like this for over a year, if Shiro was to find out about him relapsing like this he would never stop worrying, he wouldn’t be surprised if he were to find surveillance cameras around his apartment from Shiro watching him. He cared, but maybe a little too much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I won’t, scout’s honour.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Keith locked eyes with Lance through the mirror, trying to force a smile, but it just came across as awkward.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>*-*-*-*-*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Keith… got anymore to add?” He jumped when Allura called his name, looking at him expectantly. They had gotten back from their two day “vacation” half an hour ago and been in the conference room ever since, discussing how Keith and Lance’s hunt had gone. Shiro was with them as well, sat across from Keith with his arms crossed and an unreadable look on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Er, no. I think that's everything.” Keith hoped that was everything. He had zoned out of the conversation minutes in, Lance taking over and doing all the talking for him without even having to ask.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good, I would still like the report done for tonight, latest tomorrow morning. I’ll need one from both or you, if there are any more details don’t forget to add them.” Allura lifted a few pieces of paper from her desk where she had added little notes in red biro, making a dramatic scene of tapping the papers on the desk to make them neat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith only made it a few steps towards the door before he heard Shiro.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Keith, can I talk with you in private for a moment,” Lance gave him a sympathetic look behind him before he let the door close, leaving Keith alone with Shiro. He gave a small curse under his breath and did his best to look away from him, the polished floor suddenly seeming incredibly interesting. “Can I see your arms please?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Refusing would be useless and Shiro would just become more worried. So, Keith stood in front of him without complaining, pulling off his jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to his biceps and displaying the insides of his elbows. If you didn’t know what you were looking for you would miss it, but Keith could pick them out clearly and so could Shiro. Small little dots of scars. Little wounds that small would rarely leave a mark behind, but Keith had grown a nervous habit of picking at the tiny scabs while he waited to be alone and inject himself again to force his body to relax.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shiro treated him like he was made of glass, slowly taking each arm and examining them, brushing his thumb over to try and catch something he missed. He would still ask, he always did. “Are you clean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kind of, yes,” Keith hesitated to answer, focusing more on pulling his sleeves back down and grabbing his jacket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean ‘kind of’?” Shiro looked like a deer in headlights, practically jumping at Keith.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m still smoking, less than what I used to though,” Keith made the mistake of looking at Shiro, the look of worry making his stomach twist with guilt. “They just help, okay. Something to take the edge off a little.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You said the exact same thing when you were injecting yourself with he-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please just drop it. I don’t… I’ll try to stop.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, you will stop. This isn’t exactly good for you Keith.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know that, I’m not a five year old. I just-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You just what Keith?” He could hear the rise in Shiro’s voice, how he was getting more frustrated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Not on your side.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shiro, you’ve got to stop treating me like a child. I can take care of yourself. “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ll stop treating you like a child when you stop trying to kill yourself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not trying to kill myself.” Keith's voice was getting louder as well, his movements getting more articulate while Shiro still stood with his arms tightly crossed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Could of fucking fooled me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you.” Keith spat with as much venom as he could muster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Against you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Even Shiro?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Against.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stood at a standstill, both tense with murderous eyes. Shiro let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Allura is hosting a dinner tonight at five, it would be nice if you showed up. Make sure to wear something nice.” Shiro left after that, leaving Keith brewing in his anger. The guilt clawed at him again as he stared at the door he had watched Shiro leave through. He knew he only cared, but he just cared too much and it suffocated Keith. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith loved Shiro like a brother, he had been the only family to him when he had no one, however with that came the familiarity of being alone, of only relying on yourself. Shiro had taught him a lot, but that didn’t mean Keith didn’t still struggle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Here for you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Piss off.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>*-*-*-*-*</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Allura’s house had always made Keith nervous. For starters it wasn’t really a house, it was leaning towards being more of a mansion with its size, the garden itself was big enough that instead of being bordered by a fence, it was bordered by an entire forest. In all the years Keith had known Allura and had been going to dinners he’d explored maybe a fifth of all the rooms, those rooms mostly making up of bathrooms, the front entrance and the dining room. He was still waiting for the tour.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The front garden of the house was Coran’s joy and anytime Keith was invited over every bush would be perfectly trimmed, every weed plucked and every flower blooming. Allura had once told him that Coran gave special attention to the pink carnations, they had been Alfor’s favourite and planted by Allura’s mother. Coran had never let them wilt or let a bug go near them. Those flowers were the definition of perfection. Keith had never met Alfor, but by the look in Coran’s eyes whenever he talked about him - which was more often than you’d expect - you could tell he was a good man, look too closely and you might just fall in love with him; just like Coran did.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith did his best to look presentable; yes, his hair was still a tangled mess - he had never invested in a hairbrush, but his fingers seemed to work well enough to get the bigger knots out - and yes, his one and only red shirt was slightly wrinkly, but it was clean. He didn’t own trousers or a tie, so an open collar and non-ripped, black skinny jeans were his best options. Bonus points, no oil or dirt stains.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith only managed a few knocks on the door before it swung open, an enthusiastic Coran beaming on the other side. He was still sporting an 80’s porn star mustache, but it suited him at least. “Good evening Sir, do come on in.” Coran always seemed happy and it was never forced, one of the few consistent things in Keith’s life and one he greatly appreciated.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Coran, you know you can just call me Keith right?” He gave him the smallest of smiles, but Coran always seemed to notice and return it even brighter. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just doing a butler’s duty, my boy.” Coran closed the door behind them, taking Keith’s leather jacket for him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh I… I brought this,” Keith held out a bottle of red wine he had bought from Target on the way, not the most extravagant of dinner party gifts, especially for a house like this, but it was all Keith could afford. Coran still took it with a genuine smile, knowing Keith was at least trying.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, the others are waiting for you in the dining room.Now that you’re here, dinner will begin shortly.” Coran left in the opposite direction to the kitchen while Keith made his way to the dining room. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey mullet, glad you could join us.” Lance greeted Keith first, the goofy grin he always seemed to wear spread on his face. It wasn’t hard to tell he had spent a good amount of time getting ready, his hair was slicked back, tie perfectly made up and matching his blue shirt. Keith couldn’t lie, he looked handsome.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pidge and Hunk were at the table too, it had been awhile since he’d seen them. Last he heard they had been on a research based mission upstate; since it had been top secret they weren’t allowed communication.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He ignored Lance, but sat beside him at the table. “Hey, glad to see you’re back.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Glad to see you’re finally making new friends,” Pidge sat back in their seat, pushing up their glasses and smirking only causing Keith huff out in response. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too, it's about time the lone wolf followed an alpha.” Lance butted in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I was talking to you, sharpshooter.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith cracked a small smile, making sure to memorise the offended look on Lance’s face. “You guys know each other?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lance was assigned to the facility we were transferred to,” Hunk spoke up, fiddling with his hands under the table. “We actually suggested that you two be paired since we all kind of know each other.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So I’ve got you to blame for the snoring?” Keith nodded towards Hunk.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” The offended look on Lance’s face grew. “ I do not snore.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You kind of do a little.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now boys, no arguments at the table.” Allura walked through the open archway holding two plates in her hand, joined by Shiro and Coran carrying plates as well. Keith cast his eyes down when Shiro walked in, avoiding eye contact. “Now I’ve tried a little bit of a new recipe, so I hope you like it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It smells delicious Allura.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dinner went along smoothly. Hunk and Pidge talked about their time upstate, with Lance making small remarks here and there, usually tooting his own horn for any mischief the gang had gotten up to. Together they seemed to be quite the pranksters, well… Hunk wasn’t, he was just happy to be supporting friends but was nervous when it came to anything slightly troublesome. Allura listened with a smile on her face, laughing along and scolding Lance whenever he made a flirty comment towards her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith didn’t miss Shiro looking over at him every five seconds out of the corner of his eye, attempting and failing to look interested in the others conversation, it was putting Keith on edge a little, causing him to shift in his seat. He didn’t talk much, opting to ‘speak when spoken to’, instead he focused on eating the food Allura had prepared which didn’t seem to sit right in his throat. He felt sick and like a million eyes were on him at once.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, you doing okay?” Lance nudged him with his elbow, making Keith jump. Shiro saw, making a move to uncross his arms as he watched Keith, as if he was ready to leap from his chair and catch him if he suddenly collapsed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m fine,” Keith kept his voice low, not wanting to grab the attention of the others, with acceptance of Shiro - who seemed to be listening rather intently. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You just look a little pale, do you want to step outside?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“‘M fine, just tired,” His head felt like it had water inside, it was sloshing back and forth making him queasy, the food still stuck in his throat not helping.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Keith,” Shiro spoke up, alerting the attention of the others. All eyes were on him now. The look of pity and worry everyone was giving him was crawling under his sin, scratching and tearing at the muscle beneath it and biting onto his bones.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I said I’m fine Shiro,” Keith snapped, making everyone jump a little in their seats. His temples pounded from raising his own voice and for a second his vision went blurry, God did it fucking hurt. “I’m sorry.. I said… I said I’m fine.” He had lowered his voice, but that didn’t stop people’s concern from growing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Keith?” He felt a hand on his shoulder, Lance was looking at him like a puppy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He felt something cold drip from above his lip. Keith moved a hand to wipe it away, only to feel more flow through his fingers, this time warm. He pulled his hands away to see red, some of it having dripped onto the cream tablecloth, probably staining it. His head grew lighter and his vision grew black dots in the middle.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith didn’t say anything, he just stood wobbling in his feet a little. “I’m… I’m going to get a tissue.” He barely made it another step before collapsing, someone grabbing him just before his head hit the floor and he blacked out completely.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*-*-*-*-*</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was like a dark room and in the middle sat a chair. It was old and wooden, the red paint on the legs was chipping away and the seat itself had a groove in the middle from being used so many times. The room was cold and the air was almost spikey, the walls seem to be miles away yet right next to him at the same time. Keith’s head was muddled, there were so many noises and voices coming from so many different directions it was too hard to focus and pick them out individually. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He closed his eyes in hopes he’d be able to pick something out, a word or maybe a name. But he couldn’t, just noises.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Vre…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Just a whisper, small and in the background of so many other voices. Keith closed his eyes, hoping to be able to focus on that one voice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Vrepi…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t hear you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was so quiet and so deep, like it was made of gravel. He stood from the chair, reaching out his hands as he kept his eyes closed and took careful steps forward towards the voice. The other voices still surrounded him, but they grew quieter as Keith grew closer. It was like they were shushing each other, letting Keith listen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Keith.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It hurt his head when he sat up suddenly, pulsing with pain and aching. For a moment he couldn’t see, it took time for his vision to finally clear. Keith was sitting in a bed, the covers still beneath him and a damp towel on his lap that must have fallen from his forehead. The room wasn’t one he had seen before, but there was no mistaking it was one of Allura’s guest bedrooms, the fancy curtains and matching bed sheets easily gave it away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey… you were muttering in your sleep,” Shiro knelt beside the bed, he was close yet far away and looked hesitant to speak. “Couldn’t understand you though, you were talking gibberish.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Keith muttered, pressing a hand to his forehead. Shiro took the cloth from Keith’s lap, placing it in a bowl of water next to the bed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It's okay, I’m glad it was here rather than alone in your dank apartment.” Shiro gave an awkward smile at the attempt of making a joke, making sure to keep his voice low as he spoke. “The others are downstairs, we saved some dessert if you want some. Allura made tiramisù.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m… I think I’m okay, thanks. And I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don't have to be-”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m sorry for earlier… for shouting. I know you’re worried, I’m just… tired.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The door to the room opened and Lance came in with a bowl of water and a fresh cloth, “I brought some more cold water… Keith,” Lance smiled, “Glad to see you’re awake mullet.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I go home?” Keith turned to Shiro, trying to move from the bed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’d be better if someone went home with you.” Keith frowned at Shiro, knowing he wouldn’t get a second to breath if Shiro was to go with him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can take him,” Lance shrugged, sitting on the bed with a little bounce. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>*-*-*-*-*</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not going to lie to you, your place… is filthy. It’s in some desperate need of some TLC. How do you live here? Is that black mold?” Keith could make a game out of all the times he’s rolled his eyes at Lance, maybe a drinking game. Keeping with that thought, he stumbled his way to the kitchen area, a.k.a, one metre of countertop, with only just enough room for a sink and two cupboards. Of course he had a fridge as well, he wasn’t an animal. The painkillers Allura had given before he left he had done nothing, but he trusted in whiskey more to do their job.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so kind to the man who just fainted,” Keith poured himself half a glass before just drinking straight from the bottle anyway, hearing Lance make a displeased sound before the bottle was taken away from him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Said man who fainted shouldn’t be drinking,” He placed the bottle on the counter and folded his arms over his chest. Keith grumbled at him, a frown forming on his lips as he copied Lance’s stance. “You took painkillers, they won’t mix well.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, are you going to act like my nanny now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“More like your cool babysitter that lets you stay up an hour later than your parents said you could.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you going to let me have an extra chocolate bar as well?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Only if you’re a good boy and eat all your veggies.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith smiled as he pushed himself from the counter, keeping his hand with the wall to lean against if he needed. Lance made a move to follow him. “I’m going for a shower, you don’t need to follow me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure you don’t need my help getting undressed?” Lance gave a textbook playboy smirk and wiggled his eyebrows.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s some soup in the cupboard, I never finished dinner.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, holler if you need me.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The cold water was for once a blessing, it practically reset his body and woke up every nerve yet numbed them at the same time. It was ice cold, but soothing on his pounding head and worked almost like magic. He stayed in the shower until his toes were purple, his fingertips had shriveled and his lips were blue, just letting himself get lost for a few minutes in the sound of falling water and nothing else. Keith hadn’t been able to think straight for days, he just needed to spend some time in brain dead bliss.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey mullet,” He almost slipped when someone started knocking on the bathroom door.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you want Lance?” Keith shut off the shower and grabbed a towel from the rack, wrapping it around his waist after drying off.</p><p> </p><p>“I refuse to make whatever slop you have in your cupboards, so I’m going to the store to grab some actual food and make you something that won’t kill us both.”</p><p> </p><p>“Canned soup is fine.” While he spoke he pulled on some loose joggers and a shirt, the fabric still sticking to the parts of his skin that he hadn’t properly dried and were still slightly damp. He threw a towel around his shoulders to stop his wet hair from soaking his black shirt completely.</p><p> </p><p>“Keith, it’s literally two years out of date. How you’ve managed to let canned food go out of date is an actual mystery.” Keith opened the bathroom door to see Lance holding one of the cans, still reading the label. “Besides, if I served you this my Abuela will rise from her grave and slaughter me… she’s not even dead. It’ll probably kill her first, the she’d rise-”</p><p> </p><p>“Lance.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re mumbling and I have no idea what you’re on about.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, I’m going to get food, you do whatever it is Keith’s do.... Hopefully that's cleaning up a little.” Keith rolled his eyes and watched Lance leave, fixed in the task of drying his hair while he sat on the sofa.  As much as Lance was to deal with he was good company and easy to get along with. He would never admit it to him in person, but Keith did like him. </p><p> </p><p>Before Keith had struggled with people, it had taken years for Shiro to get him to talk in full sentences and not just few word answers, even longer to hold complete conversations. Somewhere between then Shiro had become Keith’s legal guardian; the orphanage had become concerned when Keith had started talking so much about monsters and evil creatures, not just under the bed but at school and around the city. They had called several counsellors in just a few months, but with Keith’s poor social skills they had gotten nowhere.</p><p> </p><p>It had just been through chance that Keith and Shiro met. Keith had been thirteen and running from one of the monsters no one believed he could see when he ran into Shiro, quite literally. Shiro had been the first to listen to Keith and not immediately assume he was insane, instead he would ask him what he saw and give a name to what he had seen, even going as far as teaching him how to keep the monsters away if they were dangerous. Even if it didn’t help Keith sleep better at night, he wasn’t as afraid as he had been before. The other kids at the orphanage still picked on him for crying wolf for so many years and Keith had run away a few times because of it. In the end Keith had asked Shiro to adopt him and Shiro had cried through signing the adoption papers.</p><p> </p><p>Some days Shiro had been tiring, he always seemed to be on Keith’s back about this or that, but never once had Keith regretted asking him. He had given Keith the chance to become a hunter and without that he wouldn’t know what else he could have done. It was all he knew. Sometimes he would catch Shiro with a sad glimmer in his eye and he knew that he regretted bringing Keith into this kind of world, but leaving him to fight it alone would have been worse. </p><p> </p><p>“Honey, I’m home,” Lance called into the apartment, juggling several bags of food. Keith heard banging through the wall of a disgruntled neighbour, yelling at them to keep the noise down. The irony of it was almost laughable.</p><p> </p><p>“Unless you want one of us to get stabbed, I suggest you use your inside voice,” Keith stood from the sofa and made his way over to Lance, peering in the bags that sat on the counter.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have an inside voice,” He jumped when he felt someone touching his hair, he looked over his shoulder to see Lance plaiting it, a concentrated look on his features. “Jesus, do you never brush this mop?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have a brush and it’ll get knotty again anyway. How do you-”</p><p> </p><p>“Two sisters and a niece. I was always at the back of the plait train, but I learnt how to do long hair and…” He pulled a hair band from his wrist to secure the plait, “... I never leave home without one.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why do I feel like you use those to pick up girls in some weird Lance way.” Keith felt the plait in his hair, trailing the grooves until he reached the band, waiting a moment before choosing to humor Lance and leave it in.</p><p> </p><p>“Correction, I use them to pick up anyone with long hair.” Lance began sorting through the bags, prepping what he needed to cook.</p><p> </p><p>“Should I feel flattered?” </p><p> </p><p>“That’s up to you,” He looked up from the cupboard to give a quick wink causing Keith to roll his eyes at him out of habit. “Hey, why do all your pans look like they're fifty years old and have been through two wars?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t cook. It's either take away that shiro usually orders, Allura’s middle-class dinner parties or a cereal bar.” Lance looked like he had just shot a puppy, it took a solid few seconds before he snapped out of it and slammed a pot down on the hob. “There goes the security deposit.”</p><p> </p><p>“One day I am taking you home and my mamá will feed you until you explode, how have you lived this long? Also, your security deposit is long gone, that wallpaper isn’t peeling, it's decaying.”</p><p> </p><p>“What are you making anyway?” Keith jumped up on the counter and folded his arms over his chest while he watched Lance search through his cupboards and draws, each time coming away looking more disappointed than before.</p><p> </p><p>“My mamá’s paella, something classic.” </p><p> </p><p>Keith stayed and watched Lance cook for a while until he was eventually shooed away, Lance claiming he needed the extra counter space. He could barely sit still on the sofa with how nice the food smelt, he had never smelt anything like it and it filled the whole apartment - which wasn’t exactly a hard task with its size.</p><p> </p><p>“Is it ready yet?” Keith hesitated to ask for the fourth time, earning a sigh from Lance.</p><p> </p><p>“Five more minutes.”</p><p> </p><p>“You said five minutes ten minutes ago though.” He groaned, throwing himself back on the sofa and regretting it when he felt how grubby it was on his face. Much to Shiro’s dismay, he had picked it up from the side of the road, afterall one man’s trash was another man’s treasure.</p><p> </p><p>“I will happily eat this all to myself if you keep complaining like a five year old.”</p><p> </p><p>It took another ten for it to be fully cooked and dished up for the both of them and Keith’s mouth was watering. </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t make it as spicy as my mamá usually makes it, but it's still going to be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”  </p><p> </p><p>“It better be,” Keith didn’t waste a second to dig in, burning his tongue in the process but it was definitely worth it. “Fuck me.” He whispered, causing Lance to chuckle.</p><p> </p><p>“If you insist.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was talking to the food, not you.” He earned another chuckle from Lance, laughing hard enough to shake the sofa slightly.</p><p> </p><p>“But I did make it, so I should take the credit.” Lance went quiet for a minute, “You going to be okay tomorrow? I know you’ve not exactly been alright-”</p><p> </p><p>“Lance, it's just a regular check up with Matt. Every hunter has them every month, it's no different. I’m just tired and Matt will say the same thing.” The food became heavy in his stomach. “But thanks… for not telling Shiro.”<br/><br/></p><p>“Not my place to say, he worries for you though. He almost joined you on the floor when you passed out, thought I would have to catch him too.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think you’ll be strong enough to catch Shiro with those noodle arms.”</p><p> </p><p>“What, you mean these bad boys?” Lance lifted up his arm to make his bicep flex, Keith had to admit, it was rather impressive.</p><p> </p><p>“I'm in awe Lance,” He said in a dry tone.</p><p> </p><p>“As you should be.”</p><p> </p><p>They finished the rest of the food in silence and Keith took the bowls to the kitchen, choosing to just leave them in the sink and to clean it later (‘Later’ read as; tomorrow night ‘when he stumbles through the door tired and complains about the smell of stale food before finally cleaning it up’).</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Lance,” He turned, watching the other on his phone and trying to read his reactions. It was admittedly hard with Keith's social skills being just above zero. “Would you be okay staying over… just for one night?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure. Your place is gross as fuck, but I think I could survive a night. But on one condition.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p> </p><p>“We share a bed. I’m not sleeping on this thing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.”</p><p> </p><p>*-*-*-*-*</p><p> </p><p>Keith had never been one to sleep well, but having someone right next to him in bed didn’t help much at all. He didn’t want to move in case he accidentally touched Lance or maybe shook the bed and woke him up. It also didn’t help that he was laid on the awkward side of the mattress, the side where the springs were a little funky and were digging into his hip. Keith had earned the award of lumpiest mattress a good year ago.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually sleep finally took him in the early hours of the morning and he was in that room again, sitting in the same chair, surrounded by the same four walls and whispering voices. Yet this time he somewhat knew what to do; he closed his eyes and waited for that same voice. The voice that sounded rough and gravelly, that tasted like burning and felt like charcoal embodied. He could hear it within the sea of other noise and could feel its vibrations, so he moved towards it. </p><p> </p><p>Slowly, he stood from the chair and reached his hands out, his skin getting warmer each time he took a step closer. Like before, the other whispers hushed when he got closer, some giggling others letting out little noises of excitement. Keith’s brows furrowed at the sounds, almost distracting him. But the voice was now loud, although it was in a language he didn’t recognise.</p><p> </p><p>“Who are you?” Keith’s voice was low and uncertain. His skin felt like it was melting now and the taste of burning had turned ashy yet not unpleasant.</p><p> </p><p><em>“Not the right question,”</em> It’s accent was thick and Keith couldn't place it, possibly a mix between thick Russian and french. <em>“Again.”</em></p><p> </p><p>Keith thought for a moment, “What are you?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Trustworthy.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“You won’t even tell me who you are?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I am someone you can confide in.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“That's not a name.”</p><p> </p><p><em>“You don’t need one to trust me.”</em> Keith stopped and hesitated. After a deep breath he made the choice to open his eyes, but something grabbed him before he could, subconsciously stopping him. The hands were hot on his arms and made him wince, but the touch didn’t hurt. Instead it tingled, an almost pleasant feeling if it wasn’t from the adrenaline running through his system from shock. <em>“Not yet.”</em> It’s voice was so tender and gentle, but the power behind it didn't go unnoticed.</p><p> </p><p>“What…” He let out a small breath, gaining some courage. “What do you want?”</p><p> </p><p><em>“Nothing from you. No more questions.”</em> Keith could feel something move closer while it still held onto his arms to stop him from moving away. <em>“You’ll know when to leave, trust that feeling. Do not trust them.”</em></p><p> </p><p>“Why n-”</p><p> </p><p><em>“No more questions, there’s little time and you are not strong.”</em> The voice hesitated for a moment, he could feel the uncertainty with how it was breathing. <em>“Question him. You know something does not fit, so question him.”</em> <br/><br/></p><p>“Who?”<br/><br/></p><p><em>“You know who. Don’t hesitate.”</em> Keith opened his mouth to speak again, but one of the hands on his arms moved and a finger was placed to his lips. <em>“Trust in me.”</em></p><p> </p><p>Keith woke up, his head pounding once again and a wet feeling around his mouth. He lifted his hand to his nose only to pull it away and see a dark stain coating his hand, his nose had been bleeding again.</p>
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